


Family

by cw151



Category: The Legend of Tarzan (2016)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Miscarriage, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-14 01:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10525842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cw151/pseuds/cw151
Summary: One-shot a few months before the movie.





	

John quietly slipped through one of the many backdoors of Greystroke mansion and made his way across the different storage rooms and extended kitchen facilities in the cellar of the building without a sound. Soon, he arrived at a small chamber containing a large bathtub, a hamper, a few towels, and a small wardrobe. Without stopping, he pulled his shirt over his head and carelessly threw it into the hamper. His trousers went the same way once he arrived at the bath tub, and soon, he sank into the cold water. He’d never quite gotten used to warm bathing water, and especially after his long daily runs, the cold water was both refreshing and comfortingly familiar. Using cold water also meant that he could come back from a run any time, without having to ask his servants to prepare a bath in advance. Just another small piece of freedom in this otherwise rule-ridden land. 

As always, John was quick and efficient as he scrubbed himself. Some habits were so deeply ingrained he wondered if he’d ever be able to shake them at all (and if he’d actually want to). One of them was to be quick and measured in everything he did, so as to neither spend unnecessary energy nor to be unaware of his surroundings for too long. 

He was nearly done scrubbing himself down when his senses suddenly tingled. He stopped mid-motion and listened, but he did not hear a sound. It was quiet. Too quiet for a mansion where servants usually bustled about the entire day long. 

John quickly finished his scrub, dried himself off, and put on a new set of trousers and a shirt from the wardrobe. Flattening his wet hair with his hand, he made his way through the cellar once more, trying to hear, see, or smell the reason for the eerie quiet. The entire floor was deserted, and so John made his way up to the great hall on the first floor. There, he found several maids who were dusting and cleaning about but wouldn’t quite meet his eye even as they greeted him demurely. While he had first only tried to find the cause of this unusual quiet, John now felt a feeling of unease settling in his stomach. With a few large steps, he was up the stairs to the first floor. As soon as he reached the first floor landing, he could smell it. Blood. His stomach turned into a knot when he realized where the scent of blood was leading. 

Half a second later, he opened the door to their bedroom. Jane was lying on her side, her back to him, and curled into a near-impossible small ball. One of the maids was tucking the covers around her, while Albert, Mrs. Thompson, and Dr. Gregor were conversing in hushed tones by the window. John crossed the room in two steps and sat down on the bed opposite to Jane. Her face was buried in the covers, and she was trembling slightly. John felt his body go rigid with worry, and he tried to shake himself from his stupor by gently placing a hand on Jane’s head. She did not react, however, which only made the fear gnawing in him worse. 

“What happened?” he asked, his calm voice betraying his inner turmoil.   
Dr. Gregory made his way over to the bed.   
“Lord Greystroke, I’m afraid your wife has lost the child,” he said with a furtive glance at Jane.   
“It is important that she rests now. I will call again tomorrow. Mrs. Thompson has instructions for herbal tea that should calm Lady Greystroke’s nerves and relieve possible pains.”   
John’s thumb grazed Jane’s head, but she still remained completely motionless.   
“Thank you, Doctor. Thank all of you,” John added, looking around the room. “If you would be so kind to give my wife and I a moment?”

The servants excused themselves with low murmurs, and when the door closed behind them, John took a deep breath. He felt the familiar feeling of grief tugging at the corners of his mind, but the worry for Jane was more potent. She remained still except for her trembles. 

John did not know what to say. Moments like these had struck him shortly after he learnt to speak English. So many words, but none of them expressed what needed to be said. He resorted to showing, and hoped that Jane would understand him. Usually she would, but now he needed her to understand more than ever. 

He scooted into the middle of the bed and tucked Jane tighter into the blankets. Then, with one swift motion, he gathered her up and placed her on his lap. He rested her head on his collarbone, and proceeded to rhythmically stroke her through the cotton of the blankets in wide movements. Jane’s eyes were still closed, and silent tears ran down her cheeks. John nuzzled his head against hers, never stopping the wide motions of his arms. He matched their breathing, and then gently coaxed her into taking deep long breaths.   
He did not know how long they sat like this. He never stopped his ministrations, even as Jane gradually seemed to become calmer and her tears gradually subsided. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jane suddenly whispered hoarsely. “I know how much you were looking forward to starting a family.” She swallowed, and fresh tears were forming at the rim of her still closed eyes.   
John tightened his grip, raised a hand to her face and pressed his forehead to hers.   
“You have done nothing to warrant an apology,” he said quietly. “We have our whole lives to start a family.”  
Jane buried her face in his chest.   
“And what if there is something wrong with me? What if we never –“ She swallowed hard.   
“Then we will find other ways,” John replied calmly and pressed a kiss on to the top of her head. He meant it. After all, he’d been adopted himself, and it had been his only chance to live – and to do so happily.   
“But we don’t know if that will even be necessary. What is important now is that you recover. You always come first,” he added, brushing his lips against her forehead.   
Jane slowly opened her eyes at that. John wished desperately to be able to do something, anything against the anguish in them, but the only healer in this case was time.   
He pressed another kiss to her forehead.   
“You should sleep. Give your body some rest,” he said, gently massaging her neck.   
Jane blinked a few times and nodded tiredly. 

John helped her loosen the blankets enough so she could lie down. As she settled on to her side, Jane caught his hand.   
“Stay with me, please,” she pleaded.   
John just nodded. He hadn’t planned to leave her out of his sight in this state anyway.   
When he lay down as well Jane wrapped her arms around him, and it felt as if she was holding on for dear life. John buried his hand in her hair and turned so she could fit under his chin. 

He gently stroked Jane’s back again and stared out of the window. Maybe one day they would be blessed with a child. But his family was already right here. Maybe he would have to help her see that.


End file.
